


Ghosts That Share the Bed

by zeldadestry



Category: Little House on the Prairie - Laura Ingalls Wilder
Genre: Community: 100_women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-26
Updated: 2006-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:05:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was reminded of Jack, suddenly, of his steady presence at her side, how it had seemed impossible that they should ever be parted. But no dog, no matter how brave, how loyal, could live forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts That Share the Bed

**Author's Note:**

> prompt 036, ‘Kiss’, for 100_women fanfic challenge

The hour grew late and Laura was drowsy, but still she stayed by the fire. “You are so quiet,” Ma said. “Feeling alright?”

“I feel fine,” Laura said, and smiled. Pa was humming to himself. Carrie and Grace were already asleep, so the fiddle had also been put to bed. Even if Laura could listen to Pa play and sing every night for the rest of her life, she knew she would never grow tired of his music. Yes, she was glad she and Almanzo were going to be married, and she was sorry that he would be leaving again tomorrow morning and that they would be apart for some time yet. But how many more evenings would she have like this, just like this, with her parents and sisters? Soon this life, the only life she had ever known, would end. When the clock struck ten, both Ma and Pa rose at once. Ma bent down to kiss her cheek, and Pa gently smoothed down her hair, as though she were a foal.

“Good night, half-pint.” Pa’s voice still meant as much to her as it had when she was a little girl. He was strength and warmth and everything that made her feel safe and happy.

Laura swallowed and blinked her eyes. “Good night, Pa.” She was reminded of Jack, suddenly, of his steady presence at her side, how it had seemed impossible that they should ever be parted. But no dog, no matter how brave, how loyal, could live forever.

She stood and placed her sewing back in its basket. The small of her back ached a little from sitting so long and she stretched and let out a yawn. It had been a wonderful day, full of good food and loud laughter, but it was time to end it. It was time for sleep. She changed quickly, so that she would not catch chill, and slipped carefully under the covers so that she would not wake Carrie. She had always shared her bed with her sisters. Once, she had been the little sister and it was Mary who watched over her. For years now, she had watched over Carrie.

Carrie turned over towards her and let out a little sigh. “Laura,” she whispered.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I know.”

“What’s wrong?”

“When Almanzo came to dinner today, I saw him kiss you outside the front door.”

“Carrie!” Laura’s cheeks were burning. “That was a private moment. It isn’t nice to spy.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You looked happy. You are happy, aren’t you, Laura?”

“I am.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“Oh, Carrie, I know. I’ll miss you all so much.”

“But you want to get married?”

“I do. I want to marry Almanzo.” Laura reached out her hand to stroke Carrie’s cheek and Carrie turned her face to press a kiss against Laura’s fingers.

“Do you think Mary will ever get married?”

“I don’t know,” Laura said, and the trickles of sadness in her heart, that had made her happiness all the sweeter, suddenly seemed much stronger, as though they would flood and overtake all other feeling.

“Do you think she will ever be kissed like he kissed you?”

“I don’t know, Carrie.”

“I think Mary would like to be a wife…and a mother.”

Laura pressed her lips together. She must not cry, it would be shameful to cry and would not set the proper example for Carrie. The sadness seemed to well up uncontrollably in her heart, and she could have almost screamed for an answer. Why? Why Mary? “We must be stronger than this,” she said, and her voice was frightening, sober and somber as though she were a nurse ministering over a sickbed. “If we feel sorry for Mary, she will know and it will hurt her. We must do everything we can to make life better for her.”

“But Laura…”

“Go to sleep, Carrie! What’s done is done. There’s no use talking about this.” Carrie turned away from her, sniffling, and Laura knew she had been too sharp. She had no answers, and as she huddled beneath the covers, she tried to forget the question. The question was always there, whenever she thought of Mary, but she must not ask it. It was not her place to ask. No person had the right to ask. She moved closer to Carrie, ran her fingers through her hair. “Don’t cry,” she said. “There’s nothing worth crying over. We have our lives, our health, we have a roof over our head and plenty of food. We have the bonds of family and friends, bonds of love.”

“But you’re going away.”

“Someday you’ll go away, too, Carrie. We all grow up and leave the nest.” She began to hum, the same nameless tune that Pa had started, down by the fire. She let it be a lullaby for Carrie, for herself.

Perhaps if Mary were having trouble sleeping that night, if she were missing home, missing the life she might have had, the song would also bring comfort to her. That was the wish Laura clung to, that she coaxed to bloom in her heart and mind, a hope to blot out both the horrible sadness and the sinful question.  



End file.
